Beyond Repair
by Paradox.bookjunkie
Summary: Short scene between Hermione and Draco. Not necessarily a Dramione. Written for The Cure For Writer's Block Challenge. Rated T because there might have been foul language, and I just don't want to reread it.


_A/N – written for a prompt challenge. Prompt: Broken_

**Beyond Repair**

He fought his way through the rain. His white dress shirt was plastered to his skin. His hair stuck to his face in swirls, and his bangs dripped steady streams of water into his eyes. He'd never seen this much rain before. Then again, he always had had his wand to perform a drying spell or shield himself from the rain. But not this time. This time he was left alone in the London rain to brave it like all the other Muggles that lived in the city.

He was fighting a losing battle. The Malfoy in him wanted to turn around, save his pride; keep the family's name pure and noble. Keeping himself from crawling in the muck like so many others of their kind had already. The Draco in him though, the fierce dragon that had buried inside him years ago apparently still warming its coals, was winning. The Draco in him that had been buried alive by his father was starting to resurface, and he knew what he had to do. He drowned out the voices of the daddy's boy inside of him and kept going.

He reached the door and slammed a hand against it. There was the sound of a lock clicking, and the door opened to show her face. "Malfoy?" She looked shocked, astounded, but he didn't have enough energy to explain. As she moved aside to let the sopping wet man into her home he blacked out, falling onto the entry mat before she could catch him.

… … … …

… … … …

He woke up in a soft bed. He was surrounded by beige sheets. He took a moment to ponder the colour. In Malfoy Manor they'd always had stark, solid colours. They never the in-between colours like "egg-shell" or "salmon-pink". They were colours that you knew right away without having to guess the colour. The black wasn't "charcoal", it was black.

He sat up, blinking. His wet shirt had been changed into a softer, white cotton shirt, but obviously Hermione had been too squeamish with anything else, because his wet pants still clung to his legs. They were not sopping anymore, but still uncomfortably damp.

There was a soft spot on the side of his head. He laid two fingers on it gingerly, wincing. He vaguely remembered falling down on Hermione's entry mat, but nothing after that. He smirked wryly, wondering how she took having an arch nemesis, sopping wet, in her house seeking shelter and a good meal, and promptly blacking out on her entry mat. He heard a kettle and stood up wincing. There was a full length mirror on the white door. His hair had curled around his temples as it did when it got wet. His excessive brushing as a child had always forced it to go flat. He ran two hands over his face and exited the room.

Hermione was standing in a small kitchen, a tiny kettle clutched in her hand. "So the Sleeping Ferret awakes, then?" She asked her eyebrow quirking. He remembered vaguely how much he'd hated that Mudblood Granger could do that and he couldn't in school. He shrugged. Then he gestured at his pants. "Um, Granger?" He asked.

"We're adults Ma-_Draco_." She replied, correcting herself. "It's Hermione."

"Well, Hermione, then," He corrected impatiently, "Do you think I could get some new pants?" If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought she was blushing slightly, but he passed it off as a trick of light. "Yes, but then you have something to tell me, Draco." She said pointedly, pouring two cups of tea. "There's an extra set of- of Ron's pants in the drawer in the room you were in, and he won't be wanting them back." She finished quietly, a bitter tone to her voice. He knew not to question her, and retrieved a pair that fit, thank Salazar's lucky Sickle. He walked out of the room, and joined her in the small sitting room. In fact, everything about the house was small. It wasn't even really a house. It was a one level that had two bedrooms, an office, and small room in which she'd managed to fit a sitting room at one end and a kitchen at the other. She had adorned the place with Muggle appliances, probably being more comfortable with them than anything.

"Now," Hermione brought him out of his thoughts, settling deeper into the couch. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

He didn't know where to begin, but looking into those deep brown eyes, he found his mouth moving, and, even more surprising, words accompanied it.

TWO WEEKS BEFORE

He was sitting alone in his bedroom. He fiddled with a wineglass. His own private house elf had gotten used to bringing a secret glass of wine up with his dinner, unknown to his mother. He tilted back his head, sucking back the last of it, and raising it as if in toast. "Congratulations, mother."

His mother, who'd been unmarried since Lucius had died in prison several months before, had found a new beau. And this one wasn't just a passing fancy. The wooer of his mother had yet to meet Draco, but he was forcing him out of the Manor. His words, from his mother's mouth of course, he still hadn't met the man in person, were "I don't want anything to get between us" which Draco thought was a load of shit, obviously. His room was filled with boxes, which in turn was filled with all his worldly belongings. _Merlin_, Draco thought as he stood, trying to wedge himself between the boxes. _When did I get so damn emotional?_ A house elf, one of his mother's, peeked around the door frame. "Missus is wanting to see yous, Master Malfoy." He nodded to the house elf and she scurried out of sight. He sighed and gave up trying to fit between the boxes and Disapparated with a _pop_!

When he found himself downstairs, he found himself face to face with what Draco vaguely noticed was one of Zabini's mother's several boyfriends. Then he saw the look on his mother's face. "This is him?" He asked, outraged. "A castaway of Ms. Zabini's? Some random jerk that's never bothered to show his face?" He stopped when a heavy hand was placed upon his shoulder.

"Son, this was your mother's decision. To marry me. And now, as man of the house, it's my decision to remove you from mine and your mother's living space." Draco, speechless, looked at his mother and back at the man. She held out her left hand which held a marriage band. He tried to speak, but the man just put more weight on his shoulder. "You will be trespassing on private property in fifteen minutes." The man told him, as if speaking casually about the weather. "Your things will be sent to the Leaky Cauldron." He turns, as if to go, but then turns back. "Oh, and wards will be set up on the grounds so those who wish to will not be able to Floo, Apparate or any other form of transportation, into the Manor. If you try, you'll probably end up somewhere in South Asia." And with that he finally did back away. Malfoy, seeing no way out, started towards the door. The last thing he heard was the sound of his name being torn from his mother's lips, and then he slammed the heavy oak door. Once he was out of the wards zone, he tried to Apparate. He was so confused and he wasn't paying attention, and he found himself in the Middle of London, nowhere near the Leaky Cauldron. He trudged through the neighbourhood where he was, but then had a thought. He'd overheard that Granger was living in Richmond upon Thames in Greater London. If he could just somehow find her, maybe he'd have a place to sleep. He'd Apparated the short ways to Richmond upon Thames. Soon enough, he had a small light leading him where to go, and he found himself at Hermione's door looking like a drowned rat.

"So what are you going to do?" Hermione asked. "You're not going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron forever, are you?"

"'Course not!" Malfoy assured her. He fell silent after, though, because he really hadn't thought about it. He stood up, shaking his head. "My problems are my problems for a reason. I can handle them." He turned to go, but not before looking her in the eye. "Thank you." And with that, he Disapparated.

She frowned slightly, cleaning up the dishes from tea. How had the boy that had tormented her all those years ago turned into this man? She looked out the window at the rain that still battered down upon the little house.

How had the noble, proud boy of her youth turned into a broken man?

**Word Count: 1, 487**

**Okay, no claims of passionate, undying love. Just talking. Hope you enjoyed nevertheless, and review please!**

**What was your favourite part?**

**Do you think Hermione's right about Draco being a "broken man"?**

**Do you think I **_should_** have included claims of undying love? :P LOL**

**Okay, okay, I'm leaving.**

**Bye!**

**Paradox**


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